


This thing called love, I just can't handle it

by itslidiablack



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, I can't believe Crowley didn't bring Aziraphaele at Live Aid cmon, Jealous Aziraphale, Live Aid, M/M, Pre-Slash, So Married, and very dumb and sappy, so many queen references, that's so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslidiablack/pseuds/itslidiablack
Summary: Thing is, Crowley was not usually one to go to a concert.For a starter, the crowd was insufferable and that said a lot, considering he was used to actual Hell. Also, one can have only a certain amount to fun making people stumble and causing a scene in the middle of grand finale.But if Crowley was willing to make an exception, it would have been for Live Aid.





	This thing called love, I just can't handle it

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO LOVIES!!!  
> So, brief warning: this is the first fanfiction I post here AND English is not my first language, I hope I've not made too many mistakes, but feel free to point them out and omg why am I doing this anyway?????  
> (because I love these two very fucking much, that's all)  
> I've been a Good Omens fan for two years (and a Queen fan all my life, Crowley would be proud) and the show has snatched my wig and stolen my heart and I had to write this, you see??? NOW I'LL STOP TALKING I hope you'll like it as much as I did writing it 🖤🖤

"Angel, don’t be late!”

“I’m just about to closing up, my dear, don’t you fret.”

The tall, ginger man rolled his eyes. Not that anyone could tell, because of the dark sunglasses he was wearing, but Aziraphale knew. He could practically hear it from distance. Six thousands years of being natural enemies - acquaintance – friendship, whichever suits you best, you learn a lot of things about another person. Or demon, that is.

“I imagined you would sport something more.. uhm.. practical?” the angel said, climbing into the passenger seat.

Crowley shrugged. “Leather is always fine. Besides, you’re the one to talk.”

“Touché, my dear. I’m not really used to this kind of manifestation.” He said apologetically. “I hope it still be enjoyable.”

Thing is, Crowley was not usually one to go to a concert. For a starter, the crowd was insufferable and that said a lot, considering he was used to actual Hell. Also, one can have only a certain amount to fun making people stumble and causing a scene in the middle of grand finale.

And that happened just once, because despite Aziraphale saying that Crowley was up for any kind of mischief, he had _standards._

In conclusion, he didn’t do concerts but if Crowley was willing to make an exception, it would have been for Live Aid.

("Greatest music event of the decade, angel!” he had shouted, waving a newspaper right in front of his nose.

“I am sure it is, but it’s hardly the greatest music event when you heard Bach playing in front of you. Now, Crowley, be a dear and fetch me those teacups, would you?”

In the end, Crowley played the card “the money raised will help the Ethiopian famine and don’t give me that look, angel, you know I have always been there!”. Angels were that predictable. And if he was really honest – and he would not, because _hello,_ demon – Aziraphale’s beam was counted as the greatest victory.)

But, of course, reading the list of singers attending the festivals – Bowie, U2, the bloke with the big sunglasses - Crowley noted that something was missing.

Precisely, four people.

A band with whom his Bentley was well acquainted.

The official motivation was that a little demonic trick would have increased the competition between the groups and human arrogance always led straight into fights and bitching and was not his job to cause some troubles?

Truth was, he just wanted Queen at the show.

(In the backstage, while checking up on the boys, Jim Beach wondered how he did manage to squeeze Queen into the setlist. He remembered the calls, of course, but he still couldn't put his mind on it. The manager shook his head. Let's hope it'd be worth the trouble.)

With the ease that only two supernatural beings can have, Crowley and Aziraphale managed to get a decent spot in the midst of the crowd, without being pressed on one another.

“Ah, look my dear boy, all this people rejoicing together for such an event!” smiled Aziraphale. “It’s such a noble cause!”

While the angel was talking, Crowley spotted a group of boys pointing at Aziraphale’s beige waistcoat that, to be fair, was more appropriated for a elegant afternoon at that fancy teahouse he liked than for a rock concert.

Nevertheless, Crowley would not permit that some boys mocked his angel’s choice of style: that was his prerogative only.

He cleared his throat, catching their attention, then he slowly lowered his sunglasses.

Gold eyes with slitted vertical pupils glared at them.

The boys quickly ran away.

“They were doing nothing.” Aziraphale reproached him. “You didn’t have to scare them for life.”

Crowley tssked. “Maybe they’ll learn to not to annoy a demon.”

Aziraphale shook his head, hiding a fond smile, when the crowd cheered louder than before.

The band entered the stage, the singer blowing kisses to the public, before trying a couple of chords on the piano.

"Here we go then!" Aziraphale said cheerfully. "That must be your protegé, I reckon?"

"Yep." replied Crowley, popping the 'p'. "This song is in absolute masterpiece." he added, for form's sake.

One must be completely dull to not recognise that Bohemian Rhapsody was the song of the century.

Aziraphale hushed him, nevermind they were in the middle of hundreds of people, because he wanted _to enjoy the full experience_ whatever it meant.

Second song coming to an end, Mercury began to play with the audience, prompting it to sing along with him.

"I see you're having fun." said Crowley conversationally. Aziraphale was quite busy in reapting Mercury's trills.

The angel positively beamed at him. "It is indeed fun, my dear! Also, I can sense so much love radiating from each one of these people, it's heart-warming."

Crowley didn't know what to say. His mind was supplying something along the lines of _How can someone be so pure_ and _no wonder you are an angel, angel_ , but none of the response would have left his dignity intact.

He resolved to pout. "I can't feel that."

(Crowley could sense lust swelling up in the general direction of the guitarist and the drummer, but Aziraphale didn't need to know that)

Aziraphale gave him a curious look.

Crowley started to tense, but the angel just patted his arm and said softly: "It's very nice, dear."

People were dancing along the guitar solo and Crowley admitted he was imperceptibly moving his hips in time with the song.

His real moves belonged to the dance floor and the dance floor only. He did invented disco music after all.

"He truly has the voice of a cherubin." said Aziraphale impressed. "And the way he enchants the crowd is remarkable, I have to admit."

"He is a nice chap." Crowley commented. "Though he would mess in your sacred Heaven, angel."

"Would he?"

Crowley shrugged. "Freddie doesn't like boredom and he appreciates a nice entertainement, that involves dancing and clubbing."

Aziraphale gave him a strange look.

Crowley groaned and was ready to apologise, not all angels were boring or why do you think I still put up with you? but Aziraphale averted his gaze and said: "So, you must know really well Mister Mercury?"

"Weeell, I wouldn't say I know him deeply, I might have chatted with him, asked him to sign a vinyl, drank a couple with the drummer.."

"Maybe you entertained him" interjected Aziraphale "with.. how did you call it? clubbing."

Crowley opened and closed his mouth. "What.. what are you sssaying?" he hissed completely lost.

In that moment, Mercury's voice introduced one of their newest songs, making the crowd scream and cheer.

Aziraphale refused to look at him.

Crowley blinked once.

Blinked twice.

A thought came into his mind but he quickly dismissed it.

Too dangerous, too stupid, but, could it be possible..

"Angel, are you jealous?"

Aziraphale turned bright red. "Why would I be jealous, you.. fould fiend?"

Indeed, why in Hell would he be jealous?

"You are the ssmartesst dumb angel I've ever met." Crowley hissed before he could catch himself.

He should just consider to just sleep for another century.

Maybe, two.

And grow the moustache back and name himself Pablo.

Aziraphale looked puzzled, still a bit flushed. "What do you mean by that?"

Crowley groaned.

At himself, at Aziraphale, at Hell and Heaven, he doesn't know.

"Look, if you think I would go with a human out of job duty, you're dumber than I thought. Besides, Freddie is going out with someone else. Or he has met someone else, whatever."

"Oh."

Crowley glared at the angel, who had the sense to look at least a bit sheepish.

"So you're not involved with him, then?"

"Nope."

Aziraphale seemed to consider it. "Good." he finally said, then turned back his attention to the concert.

Mercury, unconcerned of the speculation on his private life, was now bracing a guitar.

" _This is only dedicated to beautiful people here tonight... that means all of you_." he said cheekily in the microphone.

Maybe was just Crowley's imagination, but Aziraphale looked at the singer with much more fondness than he expected.

"He is a nice chap, after all." said the angel, linking their arms.

Crowley _didn't_ blush, just shook his head and started humming the melody.

Stupid angels.

 

 

(The next morning, Freddie Mercury, lead singer of Queen, woke up from a fantastic nap, his boyfriend sprawled beside him in the huge king-size bed.

"A certain Mr. Fell sent flowers." Phoebe informes him.

"Must be a fan." Freddid yawned. "Put them in a vase or something."

"You look relaxed boss, slept well?"

"Terrificly well, darling." Freddie agreed. "Sweet dreams for once."

He had dreamt of kittens.)

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this is what I think at 1am instead of sleeping.  
> Know that comments and kudos are the Bentley to my Crowley and the sushi to my Aziraphaele!!!  
> If you want to scream about good omens or any kind of stuff, find me on tumblr @purrvaire or on twitter @joeciambello


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